"TRUTH FOR AUTHORITY, NOT AUTHORITY FOR TRUTH"

A THEOLOGICAL CRITIQUE OF THEODORE PARKER

by

Robin R. Meyers

A Research Paper

Presented to Dr. George W. Brown, Dean

The Congregational Foundation for Theological Studies

In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements

In Congregational History and Polity

Directed Study

Phillips University

The Graduate Seminary

November 20,'1978

TABLE,..OF CONTENTS

PREFACE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ii

ChapterI. YOUNG THEODORE: LOVE AND CONSCIENCE. . , 1

II. SEMINARY AND THE SEEDS OF DOUBT. . . , , 5

III, PARKER THE TRANSCENDENTALIST. . . . . . 13

IV. PARKER THE HERETIC. . . . . . . . . . . .18

His Reputation . . . . . . . . . . . . .18The South Boston Sermon. . . . . . . . 21Reaction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25

V. THE INVISIBLE PULPIT. . . . . . . . . . .29

PREFACE

It seems fair to say that there is a renewed in-terest of late in Theodore Parker. And it is not simplythat curiosity with which the orthodox church has alwaysviewed its more notable heretics, rather it is an attrac-tion which Parker himself inspires--especially in thesedays of neo-fundamentalism.

Indeed, Parker's distinction was not that he wasa liberal; he was surroundedbysome of America's leadingliberal intellectuals in his day. What was memorableabout the man was that he dared to take into the pulpitthose thoughts which even his Unitarian colleagues keptwisely hidden in the private study of their minds. Whatmany of them thought, Parker preached, and he preachedit in a brutally honest fashion.

The result was that Parker struck at the nerve oforthodox Christianity--the miracles. His was a theologywhich not only by-passed them in its obsession with thelove of God in the hearts of men, but made them look paleby comparison. Others had questioned the supernaturalelements of Christianity, but Parker's conviction thatthey were the foundation of an easier faith proved to bea greater indictment than his Boston friends could bear.

In addition, and perhaps most unsettling of all,his life was an endorsement of that conviction--while thosearound him railed against his theology, his own parish-ioners, the blessed simple folk of West Roxbury, loved himdearly. He hugged their children, sat hours at their sickbeds, squatted evenings with the farmers and shelled beans,helped with plowing and planting, and kissed them all witha humane, not a parochial admiration. Throughout hisstormy career, these people never forsook him, even whiletheir neighbors north and south gossiped about this strangeman who "believed nothing."

Parker resolved that religion was a matter of theheart, but only after the head had taken one as far as itcould, and not in the opposite direction. His criticswere forever saying that he was negative about Christianity,but to those whose life he touched, he was relentlesslypositive--positive about the love of God and this Christthrough whom it was mediated. That was a step far beyondEmerson and the Transcendentalists, with whom he was oftensarcastically compared.

i:i i

NOTE TO THE READER

To properly study the life of Theodore Parker onemust examine the blend of everything that went into it--childhood, home and family, early seminary days, a thousandbooks, countless friendships, and much, much more. It isnext to impossible to separate any particular aspect of thatlife without losing a great deal. But given the limits ofthis paper, the author wishes to sketch briefly his theological development , from that process which begins early inchildhood, through the disillusionments of seminary andearly ministry, and into the mind of a preacher/social re-former, and heretic whom even his Unitarian associates cal-led a non-Christian. The final chapter, "The InvisiblePulpit" will deal briefly with the broader impact of hislife upon American culture.

As a Congregationalist, I selected Parker because,although he was Unitarian all his life, his impact on Am-erican Protestantism and his relation to the UnificationControversy of the early 19th century bear directly on thehistory of my own denomination. This is not to mention thefact that for the most productive decade of his life hepreached at the 28th Congregational Church in Boston--apulpit the people provided that he might be heard.

I also firmly believe that while Parker was a Uni-tarian in 19th century New England, he could easily beaccepted in the Congregational churches today.

Beyond this, I was intrigued by my first acquain-tance with Parker, which came this past September at alecture given by Dr. Howard Conn, speaking at the BostonSeminar of the Congregational Foundation for TheologicalStudies. It seemed clear to me, in light of Dr. Conn'scomments, that a thorough understanding of Theodore Parkerwould shad invaluable light upon the history of the socialgospel in America and the further development of the freeCongregational churches.

v

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At a crucial time in the history of the church inAmerica, Theodore Parker drove a wedge permanently betweenthose two great kinds of faith--the one which binds thespirits of men to the authority of the past, and the otherwhich believes in the living and present God, incarnateforever in human conscience and love. Parker became anirrepressive force for the latter kind--even though itoften stripped him of honor and companionship.

Ironically, considering all the attempts to drivehim from the ministry, Theodore Parker, that "mere Trans-cendentalist," guided all his days by the gift from Godwhich men call conscience , and found only'one thing tosurpass it: Jesus who was the Christ.

--Robin R. MeyersOctober 30, 1978

CHAPTER I

YOUNG THEODORE: LOVE AND CONSCIENCE

Theodore Parker was born in Lexington Massachusetts,

on August 2b., 1810--the last, and unplanned, of eleven child-

ren. It was not insignificant to young Parker that the town

in which his family lived was a household word. Not only

were the fateful first shots of the revolution fired there

but Parker's grandfather, Captain John Parker, commanded

the troops in that first battle. Needless to say, that

memory burned in the lad with an exaggerated brillance re-

served for the hearts of little boys, and the very idea of

freedom itself was more than books and talk, it was a family

affair.

Considering the intellect that was already fast de-

veloping and the amazing mental energy that would someday

characterize Parker's whole life, biographers are fond of

suggesting that it was all very evident in the crib. But

he was probably much like a thousand other little boys in

Massachusetts, though his parents did much to provide an

environment where learning was glorious and natural. He

was allowed to run through fields of flowers near the house

and take reckless dashes across freshly fallen snow in his

nightshirt. 1 The big Parker house, full of books and people

who read them, surrounded him with love and the chance to

9

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fall in love with nature. It was obvious in his later

attraction to Transcendentalism, that Parker had more than

just pleasant memories of the woods.

When he was barely old enough to talk, Theodore was

baptized according to the family tradition. According to

the story, he cried out "Oh, don'td" just as the water

touched his face. Again, the chroniclers are fond of point-

ing out this prophetic obstinacy--but water is water and boys

are boys.

What was unusual in the Parker house was the availa-

bility of books on the "popular theology." Apparently Theo-

dore read them early on, "disapproving stoutly of their more

brutal elements." 2 Even though his environment was Unitarian

from the beginning, Parker was troubled, in a childish way,

with some of the more obvious hypocracies of religious men

and women. It was only the beginning.

His father was hard-working, simple, and not outward-

ly pious; he was a good mechanic, in the Parker tradition

and loved to read. Parker's mother was the deeply religious

one, and it was on her knee, which Parker later called "the

greatest temple of learning," that Theodore found the common

touch--the foundation of pure, uncomplicated love that would

someday support his whole theology. It was from his father

that Parker got most of his intellect, but it was from his

mother that he learned the. depth and possibility of human

affection. She was not stained, Theodore said once in his

journal, with "the dark theology of the time. "3

Perhaps the most important contribution made by

Parker's parents was the atmosphere they created for de-

veloping a sense of conscience. In a rather famous tale

of Parker's childhood he finds a tortoise and considers

killing it, as he had often seen the neighbor boys do.

He remembers that suddenly a voice within him said, simply,

"It is Wrong." When he asked his mother about this strange

voice she said, "Some men call it conscience, but I prefer

to call it the voice of God in the soul of man. If you lis-

ten and obey it, then it will speak clearer and clearer,

and always guide you right."4

The theology that would someday emerge in the mature

Parker echoes this sentiment again and again-- conscience ,

the "voice of God in the soul of man"--follow it, wherever

it leads, even against the doctrine of the church.

As he grew older, Parker fell in love with study.

In fact, this is the characteristic of his childhood that

most people remember: an insatiable appetite for ideas.

Whatever it was that other Massachusetts boys were buying

with their allowance it surely wasn't a Latin dictionary,

which Theodore purchased with money earned picking huckle-

berries.

Arid as he grew sharp in mind while remaining inno-

cent and honest in judgement, young Theodore began to be

puzzled about his early contact with the church. It was

difficult for him, very -early, to understand his life as

somehow inherently wicked, lost in sin as the Westminster

,

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Catechism seemed to imply. He was a good boy, even if a

bit misohievious, and trying to be better all the while,

but where could he find anything in his experience that

resembled a "genuine conviction of sin" that would under-

lie the need for conversion? Out of this confusion and

naivete' Parker tossed in his bed at night and in a journal

years later he wrote:

I can hardly think without a shudder of the terribleeffect the doctrine of eternal damnation had on me.How many, many hours, have I wept with terror as Ilay on my bed, till, between praying and weeping,sleep gave me repose. But before I was nine yearsold this fear went away, and I saw clearer light inthe goodness of God. But for years, say from seventill ten, I said my prayers with much devotion, Ithink, and then continued to repo t, 'Lord, forgivemy sins,' till sleep came on me. 9

That religion should seem so contrary to nature was a theme

which disturbed and dominated much of Parker's thought.

Why, he asked, very early on, should it tear down the heart

instead of lift it up?

CHAPTER II

SEMINARY AND THE SEEDS OF DOUBT

The effect of seminary on any 'young minister cannot

be underestimated--the same was true of young Parker. The

religious impulse which drives many men into ministry Is

an intensely personal thing, something one clutches to his

breast and protects from the world. But it cannot stay hid-

den before the exegetes, it will not escape the ruthless

questions of Old and New Testament professors, and seldom

does it remain quite so glibly intact after the barrage of

theological problems, many of which rise out of the guts,

rather than trip merrily out of the heart.

Doubt is introduced, and its transforming effect

varies depending on the capacity of each young minister

to live with it--some graduate still clutching, now even

harder. Others, especially those with a keen and consuming

conscience, are rearranged completely, sometimes destroyed.

For Theodore Parker, the process was painful, but libera-

ting.

When he announced to his father one day that he was

entering Harvard College the reply was practical and con-

cerned: "Why, Theodore, you know I can't support you there."6

But Parker had a plan, and it shows clearly that learning

itself was the motive for going to school. He worked part-

time and attended classes when he could, paying no tuition.

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He passed all the courses and exams but got no degree. The

reputation he earned at Harvard was sufficient to qualify

him for a teaching position in several country schools, pay-

ing $25 a month. He was apparently overly strict, demanding

the same appetite from his students that he possessed and

determined to raise their standard of disciplined study.

Those were lonely, anxious, and indecisive days in Boston.

To pass the time and taste the family heritage Parker joined

the Lexington malitia, quickly acquiring the rank of lieuten-

ant. But there was little enthusiasm about it and he was

already anticipating seminary. Occassionally, on Sundays,

Parker would stroll over to hear Dr. Lyman Beecher preach.

He recalls:

I greatly respected the talents, the zeal, and theenterprise of that able man, who certainly taught memuch; but I came away with no confidence in his theo-logy. The better I understood it, the more self-contradictory, unnatural and hateful did it seem.

Theodore continued to teach and move fran place to place.

In once instance, he built a school in an old bakery and

began classes with only two students. In a very short time,

as parents recognized the opportunity available, his flock

grew to 54, one of which was a black boy. He didn't last very

long--a few whispers, a few nods, and he was out. It was

Theodore's first experience with racial prejudice and he

never forgot it. Like so many other social injustices, it

lodged in his throat and through a thousand future speeches

on antislavery it never budged.

Parker maintained strong ties with the church and

the Reverend Convers Francis made him a superintendent of

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the Sunday School program. It was here, after Theodore had

moved from Boston to Watertown, that Francis introduced him

to Transcendentalism. His preaching was deeper, more thought-

ful, and more humane than anything Parker had heard.

He took his teaching responsibility in the church

very seriously, once pouring an enormous amount of energy

into the writing of a short history of the Jews. His repu-

tation spread quickly and naturally he got more work than

he could handle. It was during this period that he met Miss

Lydia D. Cabot, a fellow Sunday School teacher, and fell hope-

lessly in love. The situation was intensified by the fact

that Miss Cabot shared a room in the same boarding house

with Theodore. As is so often the case for young lovers, the

whole world was transformed--Theodore's mild depression lifted

and there were "books in the running brooks; sermons in stones

and good in everything. "8

The two were engaged and Theodore entered the Divinity

School at Cambridge. It would not seem unfair to say that

the consumation of this love and the opening of Theodore's

heart to new heights of tenderness and joy prompted the move

to seminary and laid an unconscious groundwork for the further

appeal of Transcendentalism. The author can personally testi-

fy that such a moment can solidify plans for the ministty.

And why should this not make perfectly good sense?

The degree to which a man has experienced the depth of love

is also the degree to which he can explain it as the core of

the gospel, without apology. On the other hand, the degree

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to which a man has been denied the depth of love is also

the degree to which he builds a scaffold of doctrine around

what he fears cannot stand alone. No matter what the state

of his learning, Theodore Parker had experienced the depth

of love.

His reading in Cousin, Jouffroy, and Coleridge strength-

ened a developing Transcendental philosophy even while he pur-

sued courses in the divinity school. So important for his fu-

ture theology and ministry was this philosophy that the fol-

lowing chapter must be devoted to it. For now, it must be

noted that Theodore Parker was beginning to experience those

"seeds of doubt" of which we spoke earlier.

Even though he read a lot, the "spirit of an organ-

ized knowledge had not begun to move upon the face of the

waters." 9 His early, experimental sermons were bombed--too

much of the material was great hunks of what he was reading.

Parker had not begun to trust seriously the process of think-

ing for himself. He was good in debate, even though some-

times disrespectful of dignities--he once made reference to

"old Paul." And he was beginning to feel uncomfortable about

some of those "more brutal" elements of orthodox theology,

enough so that he felt the need of a cleansing credal exer-

cise:

I believe in the Bible. • .I believe there is one God,who has existed from all eternity, with whom the past,present, and future are alike present; that he is al-mighty, good, and merciful, will reward the good andpunish the wicked, both in this life and the next. . .Ibelieve that neither the rewards nor punishments of afuture state are corporal. • .I believe the books of

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the Old and New Testament to have been written by meninspired by God, for certain purposes, but I do notthink of them as inspired at all times. o .I do notthink our sins will be forgiven because Christ died.I cannot conceive why they should be, although manygood and great men have thought so. I believe Godknows all that we shall do, but does not cause us todo anything.l0

It would seem safe to assume that Parker regarded this as

quite liberal, afterall, it reorders the concept of heaven

and hell, disclaims that soipture is equally inspired, re-

jects the whole notion of atonement, and discounts the idea

that God invades and directly m-Anipulates human affairs.

Parker also had an early falling out with the church

fathers:

St. Augustine, we all know, introduced more error intothe church than any other man. Many of his doctrinesfly in the face both of reason and virtue to extinguishthe eyes of the one and stifle and breath of the other.n

It was not so much a case of disrespect, for Parker, as it

was a conclusion of the times. For many, this was the age

of the new Eucharist--Reason. Whatever seemed contrary to

the mind, to the soul and the conscience, must also be con-

trary to God. Interestingly enough, Parker had not yet let

go of much supernaturalism:

I do not doubt that Jesus was a man sent from God andendowed with power from on high; that he taught thetruth and worked miracles: but that he was the subjectof inspired prophecy I very much doubt.l2

On the eve of his graduation, Theodore Parker's con-

fidence in the miracles was still unshaken. He went to hear

Dr. Dewey preach the Dudleian Lecture. It was here that Par-

ker first heard an articulate and widely respected intellec-

tual claim that the miracles were "the least interesting

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parts of the Evidences." 13 It was a distinction that Parker

would someday make himself, only more brilliantly in his

essay "The Transient and the Permanent in Christianity."

More importantly, it was here that Parker began to

make those crucial distinctions between Christianity as a

way of life, a life lived in absolute relation to God, where

love was the norm and Christ the mediator of that norm,: and

Christianity as a set of propositions, creeds, doctrines,

and dogma. The process was not sudden, but gradual, and

there came with it a real sense of loss and regret; the

faith would never be as easy again.

One of the most interesting moments for Parker in

seminary, as it is for many young theology students to this

day, was the discovery of multiple virgin birth stories in

dozens of ther religious cults. The fact that this was an

obviously "standard" way of attributing divinity in retro-

speot to a man whose life warranted a following disturbed

Parker greatly. But he reasoned that such a fact did not

affect the "spiritual grandeur" of Jesus, and that, after-

all, was most important.

It was during these days that Parker and several of

his seminary friends took over the job of publishing a little

pamphlet called "The Scriptural Interpreter." It's former

editor of many years had died unexpectedly and the job of

interim editors was placed in the hands of the divinity

school's top two or three students--the theory obviously

being that their discipline and standing would guarantee a

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reputable publication. Unfortunately, for the magazine's

readers, these same two or three students were the liberal

Transcendentalists who called themselves Parker's friends.

They had been fascinated by and eager to publish a

work which had existed for some years by Dr. George R. Noye

on the general theme of prophetic fulfillment in the New

Testament. Dr. Noye's hypothesis was that "it is difficult

to point out any predictions which have been fulfilled in14

Jesus." When the article appeared the reaction was tumul-

tuous. Letters poured in from everywhere claiming that the

young men at Cambridge were out to`tear down the faith of

the people. It sounds exactly like the "town and gown" para-

noia that exists today.

Theodore puzzled over the reaction and thought long

and hard about a faith so grounded in supernatural proposi-

tions. He was amazed by the defensiveness and fear that

could be wrought by attacking a single proposition--how

could this be with the privileged people of God? And it

was not a phenonmenon limited to lay people. Reason was

a faculty greatly employed by men of rank, such as Mr.

Andrew Norton, until it came to religious matters. He

assured young Parker one day that all the German scholars

were "raw" and "not accurate" and that they were "naturally

unfitted for metaphysics, and their language still more so."

Sahleiermacher was no better than Spinoza, and "gave up all

that renders Christianity valuable. "i5

So it was that Parker found the taste of much ortho-

(l2!

dox Christianity to be bitter and oddly inoonsistant with

the spirit of Christ. But it was more than this. His con-

science had not only dismissed much orthodox thought as mean-

ingless and irrational but his heart had begun to search

after that, which truly was meaningful and appropriate to

sanctify him in the ministry. Some beliefs were crumbling,

yes, but if they could crumble in the light of God's gift

to man, reason, then how essential were they to the faith?

If they are not essential, then what is to take their

place? It was after his graduation that Parker reflected

with greater anxiety on Christianity than he had before,

but it was also the dawning of what he called "clearer light."

It is the natural order of things that dark nights of the

soul are set up to be conquered by the fresh insights of

dawn, or else the soul is defeated. So it was with Theodore

Parker, writing in his journal following commencement:

God has prospered me in my studies and I am now readyto go forth, but not without dread and fear. What animmense change has taken place in my opinions and feel-ings upon all the main points of inquiry since I enteredthis place.

CHAPTER III

PARKER THE TRANSCENDENTALIST

The author feels that in order to understand the

theological development of Theodore Parker, one must under-

stand Parker the Transcendentalist. Indeed, so much of his

theology is intertwined with his philosophy that they be-

come almost inseparable.

It is important to remember that Transcendentalism

was the vogue movement of the time. But for Parker, it was

more than fashionable, especially considering the faltering

concept of "religion" in his mind. Indeed, it became saving,

a philosophy which by it's "humanity" looked so fresh and

promising against "the dark theology of the time."

Although Emerson is remembered as the father of the

movement, Parker wrote an essay explaining Transcendentalism

which many scholars feel is unsurpassed in its force and

clarity of explanation. 17 In it he explains that

Transcendentalism is distinguished by its chief meta-physcial doctrine, that there is in the intellect (orconsciousness), something that never was in the senses,to wit, the intellect (or consciousness) itself; thatman has faculties which transcend the senses; facultieswhich give him ideas and intuitions that transcend sen-sational experience; ideas whose origin ,s not from sen-sation, nor their proof from sensation.l

It is crucial to understand that in a mind reeling from the

disintegration of much orthodox Christian doctrine, Parker

thrills to the endorsements of Transcendentalism which imply

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that religion is the natural disposition of man. Both

Emerson and Parker understood the mind as preeminent not

just in knowing but also in acting. It is the source of

guidance in human activities. 19 Furthermore, it not only

transcends sense experience but is enlightened by its union

with God.

This line of thought is a reaction against that pre-

valent way of thinking which asserts "there is nothing in

the intellect which was not first in the senses." 20 All that

can therefore be known must appeal to one or more of the

senses, for the "senses are windows which let in all the

light I have."21 This philosophy, because it holds that

experience is the source of guidance in human activities,

both in the case of knowing and acting, needs no mysterious

union with God--in fact it doesn't allow it.

This exception would not have bothered Emerson as

much as it bothered Parker. For Emerson, Transcendentalism

freed man from the old restrictions and institutions, whether

they be political, religious, economic, or philosophic. His

theme was "let the soul be erect, and all things will go well."22

While his concerns covered a broader spectrum, Parker focused

on Transcendentalism's transforming effect on the life of

faith,

But none-the-less, the philosophy's confirmation of

conscience gave wings to Parker's convictions. In Emerson's

summary of what a Transcendentalist is, we see the spirit of

Parker captured perfectly:

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The transcendentalist is lonely, critical, disdainsto shape himself to fit society's structure, lovesbeauty. He has a vision and attempts to live up to it.He refuses to cooperate in work which might give thelie to his vision. . .The transcendentalist has madethe experiment and found that from the liberal profes-sions to the coarsest manual labor, and from the courte-sies of the academy and college to the conventions ofthe cotillion-room and the morning call, there is aspirit of cowardly compromise and seeming which inti-mates a frightful skepticism a life without love, andan activity without an aim. 2

One legitimate problem with such a definition, now-

ever, is that it might fit anyone who deviated, in any de-

gree, from any established society. It has often been the

case that Emerson was criticized for just this lack of speci-

ficity. People in his time often felt they understood the

concept, but were put off by it's lack of boundary--some of

society's most despicable characters could qualify for the

noble tag "transcendentalists"

The criticism has some validity, and it was here that

Parker refined the concept, in an understandably religious

fashion, to answer the charges that are often brought against

liberal philosophies or theologies, namely that they are

"wishy-washy." They are the fancy playthings of eggheads

who believe everything, or nothing, depending on their needs,

and haven't the slightest notion of commitment or common

sense.

For Parker, the conscience is the voice of God, and

that voice must be followed even should it run counter to

holy scripture. But he called for discipline and self-con-

trol, warning against what he called the "transcendental-mad,"

those who take their own personal whims to be oracles of hu-

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man nature. He sought a balance, praising the good in

"sensationalist philosophy," especially its role in de-

livering us from the exaggerated spiritualism of the Middle

Ages, while at the same time acknowledging what he believed

to be the absolute necessity of transcending orders in the

universe. He was not guilty of going to one extreme or the

other, as is the case with so many of history's great philo-

sophers--putting a period where they should have put a comma.

Taking the transcendental philosophy into the realm

of religion was easy for Parker--because it was already there.

Just as in nature there is the world of sensory experience,

and the transoendant order or idea in which it is grounded,

Christianity also has its transient and permanent. True or

Absolute Religion, as Parker called it had two basic traits.

The first of which is the immediacy of the man-God relation-

ship. Parker believes that true religion is "a method of

attaining oneness with God.1t24

True religion is not a matter of complex rites, a

network of dogmas, nor an authoritarian institution. A

church, the Bible, even Christ are not essential to this

immediate relationship and, as a matter of historical fact,

often intrude into and even disrupt it. The second trait,

which follows directly from the _first, is that: a man's own

heart and conscience are his inspiration and guide.

It is obvious that, Parker would favor and be inspired

by a philosophy which verified a view of reality on which

his whole theological framework rested. Without the trans-

:

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cendent, without the permanent, without the eternal, Parker

would have collapsed along with his orthodoxy. But the appeal

of love and its centrality to religion did indeed transcend

everything for Theodore Parker--and from that moment on not

only were doctrines inadequate or illogical, they were unnec-

essary.

It is now fitting to return to young Parker where we

left him, a young seminary graduate ready to enter the min-

istry. This short treatment of Parker the Transcendentalist

was essential for understanding all his further theological

development. The movement was more to Parker than a fad--

it was a rook to which he clung, invisible, and yet sufficient

to sustain the heretic to be.

CHAPTER IV

PARKER THE HERETIC

His Reputation

When the young minister began looking for his first

parish, rumors circulated about this theology. He had already

achieved the distinction of being a "liberal" and once a man

is so dubbed everything he says or does is interpreted as

radical. All that people knew was that Parker was "one of

those transcendentalists." And they really didn't know what

that meant except that Emerson was one and he had to resign

from his church duties because he was unable to serve the

Lord's supper with a clear conscience.

All this made finding his first position a bit more

difficult, but Parker finally settled on West Roxbury, a

small country parish with some intelligent parishioners and

only a "stones throw" from the Cambridge library. Such

fringe benefits allowed Parker to take a somewhat small6r

salary than others had offered. Mr. Francis preached a

sermon at the occassion, warning the young minister not

to neglect his studies. "Henry Ware, Jr., offered the or-

daining prayer, and remembering Theodore's'fondness for

peculiar studies' in the Divinity School, prayed that no

such fondness might divert him from doing God's work." 25

At first, Parker preached rather conventionally, but

very early he experienced the need to "authenticate" what he

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preached in his own life before he preached it to the people.

It was a return to his favorite maxim: "Truth for Authority,

not Authority for Truth; After preaching a few months in

various places and feeling my way into the consciousness of

man, I determined to preach nothing as religion which I had

not experienced inwardly and made my own."26

He worked feverishly on his sermons, preaching 362

times before his move to Boston. He took pains to know each

member of his congregation, their dispositions and their needs,

and so transform his "book learning" into effective and nour-

ishing sermons. It is a trick demanded of any serious thinker

who would preach to ordinary people; furthermore it is not

brilliance which fires shots over people's heads, but ignor-

ance. Theodore Parker, for all his advanced learning, learned

the trick early.

As he went about the ordinary tasks of ministering

to ordinary people, his reputation spread like wild-fire.

And this was more than partly due to the fact that Parker

lived in theologically unsettled times. It was the age of

the Unitarian heresy, a movement led primarily by Dr. Chan-

ning from 1815-1830 to reform Congregationalism. Unfortunate-

ly after the Unitarians separated they could not seem to come

to terms with themselves.

When the controversy with the Calvinists began most

were Arians, holding that Jesus was a being "sui generis--

but an iota less than God," while the minority were Socin-

ians, holding that Jesus was a human being exhalted to the

(20

right hand of God because of his devoted life and bitter

cross. What they could agree on was Reasdn--it was the

highest faculty of man, a gift from God to be employed to

the fullest possible extent. Parker echoed this sentiment

exactly when he said "I am surer that my rational nature

is from God than that any book is the expression of his'

will."27

The Unification heresy, like any social/philosophical

revolution, was baited by oppressive ways of thinking. In

an age when reason and the human intellect were enjoying

their finest hour, the Calvinists were declaring that all

who didn't wear that name were not Christian . Men like

Theodore Parker saw Transcendentalism and the religious

system it made possible as the only alternative.

It was during this period that Parker joined a "Trans-

cendentalist Club" (so-called by outsiders) which included

nothing less than New England's leading religious and phil-

osophical intellectuals. The lofty roster included Convers

Francis, James Freeman Clarke, Orestes A. Brownson, Caleb

Stetson, William Henry Channing, Hedge, Ripley, Bartol. Al-

cott, and Emerson. 28 Perhaps the most important influence

of the club was Parker's inspired contact with men whom he

greatly admired sharing thoughts he greatly believed. He

was growing ever more weary of sectarianism:

Jesus of Nazareth was the greatest soul ever swathedin flesh; to redeem man, he took his stand on right-eousness and religion; on no form, no tradition, nocreed. He demanded not a belief, but a life--a lifeof love to God, and love to man. We must come backto this; the sooner the better,29

(21)

The South Boston Sermon

Parker went to hear an address by Emerson to the

graduating class of Hervard Divinity School and it fired him

to write the famous South Boston sermon. Suddenly, in that

one night, Emerson had outdone himself, and Parker felt the

truth in all he said. "My soul is roused, and this week

I shall write the long-meditated sermons on the state of

the church and the duties of these times."3C

Parker's voice was suddenly heard as it hadn't been

heard before. He struck again, even if indirectly, at the

necessity for believing the miracles as a basis for Christian

belief. He discovered the sober truth that for most church-

men there are "key" dogmas and nothing is so central as the

miracles. Christian theology seemed divided into two great

camps, crudely speaking: Those who demanded the miracles as

the only suitable basis for Christian belief and those who

found them not only unnecessary but often a distraction from

the real nature of the gospel.

Mr. Norton, speaking on behalf of the "true faith"

responded thus:

The latest form of infidelity Is distinguished by as-suming the Christian name, while it strikes directlyat the root of faith in Christianity, and indirectlyat the root of all religion, by denying the miraclesattesting the divine mission of Christ.31

Interestingly enough, the main thrust of this address was

to charge dishonesty on those who did not reject the Christ-

ian name when they could no longer accept the truths of

Christianity on account of the New Testament miracles. It

is exactly the same position the Calvinists took twenty years

(22)

before,

Even Johnathan Edwards had risen above the necessity

of attaching supreme importance to miracles as the highest

evidence of God's activity in the world. He seems so clear

on this at times that many have claimed he was a Transcenden-

talist before Emerson. But the charge of Mr. Norton in 1839

was clear: the miracles were the only "satisfactory proof"

of the divinity of Christ and the validity of Christianity.

Parker had struck a raw nerve and no matter how else the ar-

guments ranged in the future, they inevitably returned to

this fundamental division.

It was during this period that Parker's own theology

rapidly solidified and began to take on urgency and determina-

tion. He swears that he will write an Introduction to the

New Testament, and a Philosophy of Man which will demonstrate

that religion is a natural dispositon in human beings.

The South Boston sermon showed signs that Parker was

"smarting" from brotherly distrust. He was disturbed at the

back-stabbing that went on even in the Unitarian circles.

"Already men of the same sect eye one another with suspicion

and lowering brows that indicate a storm, and, like children

who have fallen out in their play, call hard names.,, 32

Again

and again Parker was amazed at what seemed to "matter" in

the life of faith--why did they argue ad nauseam over the

mixture of divine and human blood in the person of Christ,

and not get about the business of' living the life he called

us to?

(23)

But something even deeper was troubling Parker:

"Alas for that man who consents to think one thing in his

closet and preach another in his pulpitl "33 Here was the

final demonstration of a man's honesty and conscience.

Parker had talked with men in private who believed much

as he did, but he watched them on Sunday morning wiggle

and squirm their way out from under controversial issues,

claiming that such was best for children and weak women.

In order to compensate for the dishonesty he felt

all around him, Parker often pushed his own honesty too far--

he was sometimes oppressive with it. He believed in progress

and the steadily upward pilgrimage of all mankind, so he often

spoke of great individuals who would someday be surpassed.

In so doing he often robbed his own parishioners of the unique-

ness of their faith. Once a troubled man in the pew exclaimed:

"When you write about Ralph Cudworth I like ye; but when you

talk about future Christs I can't bear ye. "34

Parker took such criticism to heart and noted it in

his journal. But one thing was certain. While the Unitar-

ians in general were highly polished in the art of blasting

orthodoxy, few men expressed more confidence in the permanent

influence of Jesus than Theodore Parker. Oddly enough,. the

thrust of most of his critics was that Parker had stripped

Jesus of his divinity. But to those who heard him preach,

and especially his own congregation at West Roxbury, there

was the most sublime adoration for this Galilean Prince.

No one in all of New England, perhaps no one since, has

(24)

written more moving passages about Jesus Christ. At a time

in American church history when Mr. Beecher could say to

his Brooklyn congregation, "If it could be proved that Jesus

of Nazareth had never lived, still Christianity would stand

firm and fear no evil." and no one blinked an eye, Theodore

Parker was replying:

But should we lose--oh, irreparable loss!--the exampleof that character, so beautiful, so divine, that nohuman genius could have conceived it. • .Measure himby the world's greatest sons--how poor they aret Tryhim by the best of men--how little and low they appear!Exhalt him as much as we may, we shall yet, perhaps,come short of the mark. But still was he not ourbrother, the son of man, as we are; the Son of God, likeourselves? 35

In one passage, Parker both negates the traditional incarna-

tion and exhalts the ideal Christ "whom we form in our hearts"

as superior to the historic Christ. 36 Not only has he re-

moved the supernatural element but placed the awesome and

sometimes unbearable responsibility of being "Christ-like"

upon the shoulders of every man who is a "Son of God."

He believed, like so many liberal theologians before

and after him, that a half-God, half-Nan not only could not

demand that his followers be like him, since they never

could, but also that his appeal could never match a fully

human Jesus, who was the flesh of our flesh and still ex-

halted himself to the "right hand of God." There was 'an

example that could make us tremble. Ironically, Parker

believed with exceeding passion that which his opponents

charged could never constitute the Christian faith. And

not only did he believe it, but poured himself into pro-

(25)

claiming it, for fellow man and for country, in a frenzied

and energetic way that cast the judgment of laziness on

most other clergy. If indeed the gospel teaches that one's

will can be seen most clearly in his actions, then it can

never be said that Parker "believed nothing."

Reaction

So it was that Parker's South Boston Sermon ignited

the fires that were smoldering around his reputation. On the

day it was delivered, no one got up and walked out, except

one man who needed ventilation. The effect was gradual, but

gathered momentum--one Unitarian minister demanded Parker's

arrest for blasphemy, others began to form a council bent on

forcing Parker's resignation from the Unitarian Association.

One layman wrote In the Boston Courier:

I would rather see every Unitarian congregation in ourland dissolved and every one of our churches occupiedby other denominations or razed to the ground than toassist in placing a man entertaining the sentiments ofTheodore Parker in one of our pulpits.37

Opponents of Unitarianism smiled and said, "We told

you so." Meanwhile, the good folk at West Roxbury seemed

unaffected. Parker was their pastor and seemed to care about

them and the subtleties of theological debate raged above

their heads, or more accurately, outside their hearts.

Systematically, the Unitarian Association removed

the pulpits in which Parker was allowed to speak, until he

could count them on one hand. It was an odd prelude to a

time whjn Parker would be invited to the Old Music Hall in

Boston so that overflow crowds could be accomodated. For

.

(26)

now, the Unitarians were slapping his hand, and naturally

Parker simply got more ruthless--more impatient and over-

bearing than he had planned. It is the case that the perse-

cuted create persecution, and Parker could not be silent now.

Ironically, all this time churches across the land

were including passages written by Parker in their worship

services, and by very orthodox preachers who thrilled at his

prose. Countless parishioners went home from Sunday service

with those glorious thoughts still ringing in their ears, and

they forgot all the rest--or never knew.

Meanwhile Parker wrote, pressing his conclusions to

purge himself and assure the world he would not budge. As to

miracles, he reached the conclusions of Huxley forty years

prior to Huxley:

Antecendently to experience--this was the doctrine--onething is as possible as another; but the more stableour experience of any kind of thing, the more evidencewe must demand for anything affronting this experience:so few persons have risen from the dead at any time thatthe evidence for any particular resurrection should beemmense.38

Parker had come to clarity about what he considered "Religion."

The distinction between Parker and his critics was exactly

this; if dimly recognized, yet profoundly felt: It is true

that Parker identified Christianity with his "Absolute Re-

ligion," meaning by this Religion in its essential, universal

character. The inexpungible fact remained that Absolute

Religion was his standard of measurement. He accepted Christ-

ianity as justified by that and not that as justified by

Christianity. The free soul was his ultimate standard, and

(27)

not any traditional authority vested in Bible, Church, or

Christ.

His critics said: the miracles and the authority

of Christ attested by them must be added to Absolute Reli-

gion to make Christianity. Parker replied: Christianity

is love to God and man, and miracles cannot make this more

or less important. Again, it'is the issue of miracles, as

the only suitable proof that finally estranges Parker from

the great majority of his brethren.

At a meeting of Unitarian ministers bent on Parker's

demise, Dr. Frothingham said, "The difference between Trini-

tarians and Unitarians is a difference in Christianity; the

difference between Mr. parker and the Association is a dif-

ference between no Christianity and Christianity."39 So it

was that his own fellow clergymen, many of whom were as ra-

dical at heart as Parker, sent Theodore from the table more

than once in tears. He wrote:

I have no fellowship from the other clergy; no one thathelped in my ordination will now exchange ministerialcourtesies with me. . .I must confess that I am dis-appointed in the ministers--the Unitarian minister§.I once thought them noble; that they would be true toan ideal principle of right. I find that no body ofmen was ever more completely sold to the sense of ex-pediency. . .I see few persons, especially scholarlyfolk, but after all, books, nature, and God afford theonly society you can always have and on reasonable terms

Dr. Channing's death in 1842, which greived

Parker deeply, the Boston Association summoned Parker to re-

sign his post. He was dubbed the teacher of "shallow natural-

ism," even though he deplored naturalism. He was called "the

expounder of "Negative Transoendentalism," whereas Emerson

(28)

was an expounder of "positive Transcendentalism." This is

doubly odd considering the fact that Parker's Theism and

Immortality were more constructive and positive than Emer-

sons.

It was the low-water-mark of Parker's life, and the

arguments he offered in defense of his integrity, even at

a time when his very profession was in question, were the

arguments by which Parker would thereafter be known. In

the heat of the fire Parker branded himself, and his future

was permanently rearranged.

But not everyone felt anger, indeed, some Bostonians,

waiting on the fringes of the church felt "it doth protest

too much," and Parker's voice stirred their interest in a

new approach to Christianity. As the slavery issue gathered

momentum, Parker's refusal to leave the church or let the

church leave the world, gave him the pulpit he always wanted.

It was a pulpit that Boston accomodated for him, so that his

social gospel could be heard.

The author has attempted, up to this point, to trace

briefly Parker's theological development--especially up to

that point at which he was an established heretic. Now let

us turn to something of Parker's total impact, in summary

fashion, and examine in retrospect the effect this preacher,

reformer, and.sooial.oritic had on America and her Protestant

religion.

CHAPTER V

THE INVISIBLE PULPIT

The simple headstone above Parker's grave in Florence

reads "The Great American Preacher." Parker was, first and

last, a preacher--a man of faith and of religion, and even of

the church. Despite every attempt to drive him from the church

he would not leave it. Because religion itself "permeated his

life, inspired his thought, commanded his learning, directed

his conduct and sustained his spirit throughout his life."

He rebelled against the Unitarianism of his own time,

but unlike the other rebels of his day (Emerson, Ripley, Pier-

pont and Higginson) he refused to leave the church or be put

out. He was fascinated with secular learning, but there was

never a time when he considered anything other than the minis-

try, and throughout his far-flung public life he never aband-

oned his clerical role. "When he left his pulpit in Boston's

great Music Hall, he carried an invisible pulpit with him;

and from whatever platform he spoke, it was a religious

platform." 2

He came early under the influence of two of the great-

est minds of the New England renaissance, William Ellery Chan-

ning and Ralph Waldo Emerson. And though he was charged

throughout his life with preaching the worst of each, Theodore

Parker actually brought the two to their logical, or at least

practical conclusion. He took them out of the study, where

( 30)

both Channing and Emerson were content to keep them, and "put

them to work in the home, the market place and the legislative

chamber.

Parker's contribution to religion was significant.

He refused to be bound by the dominant Unitarianism which

was'popular--that curious combination of supernaturalism

with rationalism given orthodox form by the Reverend Andrews

Norton. Parker substituted the supernaturalism of the miracles

with the miracle of intuitive truth. He also brought to re-

ligion what was soon to be called the Higher Criticism, work-

ing to illuminate the problems of theology with the findings

of German scholarship. But he hated pure intellectualism,

however much he was accused of it, and preferred to make

praxis the test of the gospel.

And as much as those who detested his view made claim,

Theodore Parker actually revived religion in much of the north

by carrying his gospel to hundreds of thousands of men and

women throughout the whole country. As Emerson was the phil-

osopher of those who knew no other philosopher, so Parker was

the theologian of those who had no other theology, or who in-

stinctively rejected all that traditionally went by the term

theology. And finally, Parker applied what he believed were

the great truths of Religion to the social issues of the day.

For this reason he has been called the forefather of the social

gospel.

Parker's generation, like our own, was much concerned

about the place of the scholar in society. Many felt that

(31)

scholarship was at war with Nature, the head with the heart,

and that Nature and the heart were, after all, the most impor-

tant because they came directly from God. Scholars were too

often self-indulgent and removed from the "great heart of

humanity." This accounts for much of the anti-intellectualism

that runs through American romanticism and Transcendentalism.

And added to this, was a new sense on the part of all American

scholars that democracy demanded more from its intelligencia

than the Old World cultures. There was new and urgent evidence

that scholarship and reform should go hand in hand.

Theodore Parker became the leading spokesman for this

happy marriage between learning and loving. He was deeply

committed to scholarship--a collector of languages, of books

of esoteric lore. He had a remarkable memory and could call

forth an avalanche of facts whenever necessary. But he was

never entirely happy about his learning. He always feared

that the hours in his study, the love of books, might be a

kind of dissipation.

So it was that Parker sought to "socialize intuitive

ideas." He was not the only social reformer of the day,

not by any means. The list was impressive in an age when

men would remake the world. But while Parker is always re-

membered as a religious liberal and an abolitionist, he also

found time and energy to champion the cause of women, of

labor, of the poor and neglected, of peace and temperance,

and of education. "He was, in short, what his religion and

his philosophy required: the universal reformer."4

(32)

He was a Transcendentalist, of course, but he took

Transcendentalism a step beyond Emnerson. He demanded that

the insight and communion one received through Transcenden-

talism be brought into the streets, where the essence of

any faith is tested.

As for matters of the Christian faith, he stripped

away doctrine and dogma in order that what he called Abso-

lute Religion would emerge. While others spent their time

railing against his systematic destruction of the necessary

oracles of the faith, Parker chased what he called a "clearer

light." The fundamentals of his theology were simple--Jesus

taught no religion, creed, or formula; He taught a way of

life, an absolOte surrender to the will of God, and not only

did doctrine get in the way, but it often distorted and des-

troyed the possibility of faith.

Yet even while Parker's ideal commanded respect, his

methods often did not. He was harsh and violent at times,

passionately hostile to every form of injustice and supersti-

tion--"to religious obscurantism, ignorance, intemperance,

greed and selfishness in the rich, arrogance in the power-

ful, vanity in the learned, and on one matter he was clearly

fanatic: slavery.

Difficult as it is in this generation to understand

the problems of slavery, it clearly violated the most cherished

principle of Parker's religious faith--the' divinity of man.

When the Fugitive Slave Law was passed in 1850, Parker decided

that the only solution to the evil of slavery was by force.

It is true that Theodore Parker, oddly in tension with his

(33)

own beliefs, advocated nothing short of violence to end the

oppression.

Perhaps it is true, as one writer maintains, that

Parker is the "Forgotten American." all, how many

schoolboys know that it was Parker who defined democracy

as "government of the people, by the people, and for the

people," and not Abraham Lincoln? It may be the case that

much of what is today called "modern social awareness" was

laced throughout some of the same sermons from which Lincoln

borrowed that famous phrase. One thing is certain, Parker

was a man of conscience , and that often drove him to places

others dared not go--against the very soul of the church he

loved, and into an abolitionist circuit so grueling it

broke down his health. Whatever else may be said of Theodore

Parker, it can never be said that`he "believed nothing."

In fact he believed more than most men, and with a

conviction so strong that he sanctified his own thought by

acting. It may well be that the most significant moment of

his childhood was the "sparing of the tortoise" and his

mother's simple explanation: "Some mOn , oall it conscience,

but I prefer to cal it the voice of God in the soul of man."

Parker believed her, and nothing in his whole life ever took

its place.

--Robin Meyers

NOTES

1John White Chadwick, Theodore Parker:Preacher and Reformer (New York: Houghton, Mifflinand Company, 1900), p. 13.

2Ibid., p. 10.

31bid., p. 11

Steele Commager, Theodore Parker:An Anthology (Boston: Beason Press, 1960),, p. 21.

SChadwick, p. 18.6Ibid., p. 22.

71bid., p. 25-26.81bid., P• 30•

9Ibid., P. 34•10

lbid., p. 38.11

Ibid., P. 39.12

lbid., p. 40.

^31bid.141bid., P. 43•

151bid.16

Ibid•, p. 47

17Robert E. Collins, Theodore Parker: Ameri-can Transcendentalist (New Jersey: The Scarecrow

Press, 1973), p. 12.

18 Theodore Parker, 'Transcendentalism quoted inRobert E. Collins, Theodore Parker: American Trans-cendentalist (New Jersey: The, Scarecrow Press, 3),P• •

19Collins, p. 13.

20

Ibid., P• 53•

21lbid.22Robert E. Spiller, ed., Selected Essa s Lec-

tures, and Poems of Ralph Waldo Frierson (New York: Wash-ngton Square Press, 1967), P. U.

23Colllins, p. ]4.

24Ibid., p. 21.25

Chadwick, P. 56.26Ibid., p. 62.27

1bid., P. 79.28

1bid., P. 85.29lbid., p. 86.

301bid., p. 88.31Ibid., p. 88.32lbid., p. 9L.33

Commager, p. 101.34 Chadwick, p. 95.35

1bid., p. 98-99.

361bid.37

1bid., p. 102.

38Ibid., p. 110.

391bid., p. 118.

0Ibid., p. 123-1 i. .

41Commager, p. 1.

42Ibid.,43

1bid., p. 2.4'Ibid., p. 5.

^'5Coilins, p. 1.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Chadwick, John White. Theodore Parker . Boston:Houghton, Mifflin, 1900.

Collins, Robert E. Theodore Parke r: AmericanTranscendentalist . Netuchen New Jersey:Scarecrow Press, 1973.

Commanger, Henry Steele. Theodore Parker. Boston:Little, 1936.

Commanger, Henery Steele, ed. Theodore Parker: AAAnthology . Boston: Beacon Press, 1960.

Dirks, John Edward. The Critical Theology of Theo-dore Parker. Niw York: Columbia UniversityPress, 194.

Frothingham, Octavius Brooks. Theodore Parker: ABiography. New York: G.P. Putman's Sons,1850.

Weiss, John. Life and Correspondence ndence of TheodoreParker--Minister of the TwentyIghth Conational Society, Boston . New York: D.

Appleton & Co., .

Wright, Conrad. Three Prophets of Religious Liberalism :Channing, Emerson, Parker. Boston: BeaconPress, 1961.

Additional sources collected and consulted^at theCongregational Library of Boston Massachusetts includeletters, diary material, and assorted memorabilia.Gracious thanks are extended to the helpful staff ofthat library.